Scimitar Wind
by Selom
Summary: A young apostle strikes out into the East beyond the borders of Rome and is embroiled in a struggle against occult forces, scheming royals, false prophets, and clashing empires. If you want to see another chapter, just tell me and I will put it up.


**Scimitar Wind**

**Prologue**

The king's face was hidden beneath the shadow of his cowl. His white, emaciated legs were folded beneath him like two bleached bones, the only visible flesh on his entire person. Surrounded by attendants and officials, the king was propped up carefully between cushions on the edge of an expansive bed.

"The court of King Abgar of Edessa," a pale, thin-faced chamberlain intoned. He stood beside the enormous bundle of black cloth like a pale wraith of smoke, attending to his brooding lord's needs with lifeless efficacy. "The king has granted an audience to the honorable sojourner from the west, Mar Addai." All around the darkly-lit court, the king's nobles, captains, and attendants stood assembled in somber array. They were watching the new visitor intently.

The chamberlain took a step into the dim light, scrutinizing Mar Addai. "You are the servant of the miracle worker, Jeshua?"

Mar Addai nodded once.

"You know of the king's letter?"

"I saw my master read it myself," Addai replied. "Your king has asked Jeshua to heal him of his plague. I trust you have received his reply."

"We have," the chamberlain said. "The king still guards it as his most cherished possession. The letter said you would come. My king still wishes that Jeshua could heal him with his own hand. Nonetheless, we are honored that he has sent you to do the work in his place." He took a few steps back, signaling to Mar Addai to draw closer to the king. "The king wishes to know—what news of your master?"

Addai bowed low as he came within a few paces of the king. He rose and gave a short reply. "My master was killed."

The court sat in stunned silence for several moments. The chamberlain went rigid, not knowing what to do.

Finally, the dark bundle made a slight motion. The chamberlain bent down to listen to some guttural, incoherent sounds emanating from the hood. When the sounds had subsided, he stood up again. "The king wishes to know if the promises of a dead man hold true from beyond the grave?"

Mar Addai maintained a steady gaze. "No, my Lord. The promises of all men are shallow, and a dead man's promises are nothing. There is no hope for you from beyond the grave."

It seemed that the hunched-over figure somehow sank lower in his bedded seat. Another guttural semblance of man's speech emerged from beneath the cowl. "The great King Abgar wishes to know, then, for what cause you have come to torment him with these words?" the chamberlain interpreted coldly.

"Because," Mar Addai replied evenly. "though the words of the dead perish, the word of the living stands." He took a step forward. "The Lord Jeshua was killed, as I have said. He was buried, the tomb was sealed, and he lay dead for three days under the watch of a Roman guard. On the third day, however, an angel of God came to the garden of the tomb. He struck down the guards with blindness, opened the tomb, and on that day, my lord Jeshua passed from death to life. He rose and walked out of the tomb on his own feet. I assure you, my king, my master Jeshua is alive."

The dark heap of the king was very still. The chamberlain simply gawked at Addai, speechless.

Mar Addai took one more step forward. "The God who brings life forth from death is also able to cleanse all flesh. And he shall." He was now standing directly over the king. The leprous monarch had shrunk back in his heap and now stared up at Addai with wide, swollen eyes. The hood had fallen back, revealing his naked, scabrous white head and his hideously deformed face. Amid the tortured wheezing came the rasp of his reply: "_Aanaa Hamin_."

Mar Addai looked down on the piteously mangled being. There was utter stillness for a moment, and then, Addai bowed his head. "_Shimaa d Alaahaa, oo d Maaraan, oo d Rookhaa d Qoodshaa,_" he muttered. Unceremoniously, he leaned forward and knocked aside the tower of cushions the king was propped up with, and the leprous king fell back on the bed. The rest of the court was still too caught in uncertainty to react.

Addai bent over the bedside and laid a hand on the king's trembling forehead. "_Aanaa tukhnuntaa paarriq Abgar, d durbaa d aakhilqaarrsaa, a'deeyaa!_" Mar Addai continued, his left hand punctuating the last words with a commanding gesture towards the floor. His right hand remained steady upon his forehead.

The king's horrible eyes met with Addai's, and stilled, his gaze locking with him. A spark of something—recognition, comprehension, awakening—appeared in the dead eyes, and the phantoms of fear and torment that seemed to ravage within them were suddenly lost. A demeanor of peace began to shape his features. An odd, restful ease seemed to appear in his eyes, completely out of place with his tortured body. The thin, flaccid line that was his mouth relaxed. As if immersed in warm water, his entire body went slack, and his chest began rising in deep, slow draws.

At first the breaths that emerged from the ravaged mouth were grating and broken, but then, with each successive breath, another hack or rasp was smoothed out, and the breathing became more broad, more clear, until finally the king lay peaceful, his breathing quiet and uninterrupted.

A murmur of astonishment went up from the crowds. Mar Addai, withdrawing his hand, stepped back, his face tranquil. The crowds were as silent as death.

The shriveled body uncurled upon the bed, and became straight and filled. Muscle and flesh rose into place within the arms, the hands, and at last the fingers. The king began to grope for a fistful of his cloak with each hand. Finding them, he yanked, gasping loudly as he tore the black garment from his body.

Behind his pallid skin, warm, fleshy tones had emerged, like a candle's glow through a sheet of papyrus. As these gentle colors rose to the surface, layer upon layer of leprous scars began to melt like wax into the hearty new flesh. The ravaged pulp of his face melted and molded inward, resolving into the perfect lines of cheek, nose, and brow. Ears that had been nothing more than holes in the side of his skull blossomed out with fully-formed lobes and crests. Fine, dark hairs slid from his newly-formed facial flesh, eyelashes and brows among them. A thick, curly shock of the stuff began to fill in his pate and cover his chest.

The king spread his arms outward, then rolled his head back, sighing. His flesh was as perfect as a child's, and his muscles were smooth and fully-formed. Stretching, he pushed himself upward. He was still for a moment, turning his head slowly from one side to the other, taking in all of the assembled court. Then at last, in a peaceful, resonant voice, he spoke. "I am healed."

The assembled lords knelt as one. "Hail King Abgar Okooma!" they roared. "Hail the king of the Blessed City!"

The king's commanding black eyes passed over the assembled with unflickering disregard as they cheered. When they had at last calmed, he stood, rising with powerful ease to his full awesome height. His attendants immediately rushed a robe upon him, and his vestments were laid upon his shoulders. A scepter was set in his hand, and a lord of the court raised the diadem of the land over his head and crowning him as the noble king he was. He stood still and majestic through it all.

When all at last was quiet, Abgar looked upon the nobles again, and shook his head. "Oh, you simple ones," he said. "Do you not see that a majesty far more worthy than I has been here?"

The lords hesitated, wavering uncertainly.

Abgar's eyebrows drew into a scowl. He hurled his jewel-encrusted scepter to the ground, and smote his chest. "Fools!" he boomed. Broken jewels and studs skittered at his feet. "Have you yet to grasp that I am healed? Can your eyes not see my flesh before you? God is upon us, gruesome eyes!" He turned away from them, silencing any answer with a sweep of his hand. He turned to Addai, and grasped his hand firmly. As the court murmured in astonishment, he kneeled, bowed his head, and kissed Addai's hands. "Your master's word is true," he said. "Myself, my house, my kingdom, my people—I pledge them all to him, forever."

The entire court had fallen to their knees at the king's words. "Forever!" they shouted as one.

Mar Addai glanced across the kneeling nobles. "Then you are Jeshua's people." With that, he himself kneeled. He stayed in that position only a moment, then lowered himself prostrate on the floor. The entire court remained perfectly silent as he lay there. After several long moments of silence, he spoke. "Receive this people, God," he said. His voice was soft. "And make them into an empire."

3


End file.
